


Between The Shadow And The Soul

by oratorio



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Bethany Hawke is captured and sold to a Tevinter magister.  She hides her magic, ashamed of how it has corrupted those in power, wishing to live by her principles rather than her abilities.  Living as a slave in Danarius' kitchens, she meets Fenris who discovers her secret.  He is surprised to meet a mage he actually respects, and they forge a powerful friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She lined up alongside the women and men she had known for seven months now, all of them shuffling their feet and trying to avoid looking at each other.  The hall they stood in was vast and cold, but clearly part of a very prestigious estate with intricate carvings in the marble walls.  Her fists clenched as she tried in vain to stop herself from shaking.

“Three, I think,” a booming voice carried across the room as the double doors at the end of the hall swung open.  Bethany  looked down at her feet, too afraid to catch a glimpse of the man who was beginning to walk slowly along the gathering of slaves.  She attempted to drown out his voice by slipping into her usual daydream of happier days in the fields of Lothering with her brothers, but today the memories would not come and the voice became louder as he progressed down the line.

“This one is young and fit.  Should make a good estate guard,” the man said.  “Yes.  I will take him.”

Bethany closed her eyes as she saw the magister’s feet and the hem of his robes appear in front of her.

“Ah.  What have we here?” he said, and even though she could not see his face she knew he was grinning.  She felt a finger underneath her chin, forcing her head up.

“Open your eyes.”  This was a direct command she knew she could not refuse, and she slowly cracked her eyelids open to see the older man standing in front of her, his eyes roving up and down her body as if he were appraising cattle.

“Very nice,” he said, stretching out a hand and running his palm from her shoulder, across her breasts and belly and down to her hip.  She struggled to suppress a shudder.  “Yes, very nice indeed.  I will take her.”

He moved on without a backward glance as her master – no, her _former_ master – pulled her roughly backwards out of line and handed her over to a menacing-looking elf with silvery lines scored into his skin.  The elf clipped a shackle over her arm with a chain running from it to an identical shackle on the arm of the scared young man who had been chosen before her.  The pair of slaves were led down the hall and were joined by an older woman who was the third to be purchased that day.  Their new master looked them over one final time before nodding once, and the elf led them all away to the small cramped cells which would be their new quarters.

Bethany was quickly sent to work in the kitchens with the older woman, who she knew as Jemima.  This was familiar work for her, as it was what she had been doing for the past seven months with her former master.  She was a good cook and worked hard.  She almost enjoyed the work at times, throwing herself into her baking and concentrating on flour and spices so that she would forget that she was not here by choice.  The other slaves were quiet and did not disturb her thoughts, and she often thought that her life could be a lot worse.

Each day, the elf would come to the kitchens to supervise the preparation of the meals for their new master, Magister Danarius.  He would make sure that no ingredients were added which could cause the magister harm, and each day would instruct one of the kitchen staff to taste the food before it was served.  The elf – Fenris, his name was - was aloof and difficult to read, and Bethany often found herself watching him from under her eyelashes.  He fascinated her; he was handsome and strong and like nobody she had ever met in her life before, but he had never once spoken to her or any of the other slaves other than to give abrupt orders in a low, sonorous voice.  While he was a slave himself, he appeared to have status within the magister’s assemblage and Danarius almost seemed to have respect for him.  She sometimes found herself thinking about him at night instead of her usual dreams about her family.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a quiet evening and the magister was dining alone for once, so the only people at work in the kitchen were Bethany and the chief cook, a bossy if lazy woman.  Bethany was baking bread, and the balls of dough were on a tray in the oven but the oven was stubbornly failing to light.  She cursed under her breath as she tried again to light the strips of wood and watched the flame gutter and die.

She looked up to see where Cook was, and noted that she was headed into the pantry to get vegetables.  Quickly, Bethany sparked a flame from her fingers and sent a small fireball into the logs, which immediately kindled and began to burn.  She slid the tray into the bread oven with a small sigh of relief, and turned back to the counter…

…looking straight into the green eyes of Fenris, who had appeared in the doorway and was watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you and I need to have a little talk,” he said softly.  Her knees weakened in fear and she felt her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she stared at him helplessly.

“Cook!” he shouted to the portly woman who was struggling back under a small pile of greens.  “You will have to manage dinner by yourself tonight.  I have orders to bring this girl to the magister.”

“Leave me by myself to struggle, of course.  Never mind poor old Cook, been on her feet for the last seven hours.  I don’t know why you think you are so important,” Cook grumbled, but did not attempt to stop Bethany as she wobbled out of the kitchen behind the elf, white with terror.

They did not get far when Fenris stopped and pushed her up against the wall, his face inches from hers and his lips curled in distaste.

“You will tell me what happened back there and why you are keeping this a secret,” he hissed, eyes flashing.

“I… I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” she said, stuttering over her words.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said.  “You are a mage, a mage and a slave.  This does not make sense.  What do you gain from hiding this?  What are you planning?”

“I’m not planning anything,” she said, shaking her head violently.  “I was born with magic, but I do not want… I cannot be like these people.  Magic does bad things to people here, turns them into the sort of people who terrify me, who hurt others.  I do not want that.”

Fenris frowned, taking in her words.  “So you would rather this, to live as a slave?  You could have more.”

“I am not willing to pay the price,” Bethany sighed, casting her eyes to the floor.  “I would rather die than use others like this.”

“An honourable mage?” Fenris snorted, disbelieving.  “I never thought I would see the day.”

“Please,” she grabbed his arm, then flinched as he pulled away from her grasp suddenly.  “Please don’t tell anyone.  I promise I won’t use magic again.”

The elf sighed, stepped back.  “You confuse me.  Go, then, back to the kitchen.  But know I will be watching you carefully.  I do not trust you.”

Bethany dipped her head and scurried back to help Cook with the dinner, Fenris following a few steps behind.

 

* * *

 

 

Fenris was as good as his word.  He was like Bethany’s shadow in the kitchen, and she felt his eyes on her almost exclusively as she went about her tasks.  Even after the meal was served, he would wait and walk her back to her quarters before returning to his guard duties.  At first he was silent, even his footsteps almost inaudible as he followed her and ensured she was safely locked away for the night.  Several weeks went past like this, before one day she heard him clear his throat behind her.

“Do you feel you are treated well here?”

She stopped suddenly, shocked at the sound of his voice.  She felt him close behind her, his breath hot on her neck.

“I would be lying if I said I did not miss my old life.  But… I am treated well enough.  I know things could be worse for me.”  She had seen the way some of the slaves were treated, worked until they dropped and whipped if they fell.  And the body slaves, passed around at the magister’s regular parties.  She often had to serve the food at these parties, and shivered at the sight of the dead-eyed young men and women who were paraded half-naked and shining with oil, being selected in turn to service the guests’ every need.  She knew that could easily have been her, had she not been so quiet and compliant.  As a virgin, she would have been quite the prize.

“You are lucky to remember your old life,”  Fenris said, almost painfully.  She turned to look him in the eye, taking a step back as she found her lips inches from his.  His brows were knitted and he looked thoughtful.  She wondered what he meant by that, what had brought him to his current position in the magister’s household.

“Do not trust anyone,” Fenris continued, his voice low.  “Everything can change in an instant.  And promises can mean nothing at all.”

She swallowed as she felt his gaze on her face, intense and powerful.

“Why are you telling me this?”  She almost blanched at her own audacity to ask such a question, but the elf did not react. 

He sighed.  “I do not know.  Truthfully, it is nice to have someone to talk to.  I apologise, if I have overstepped the mark.”

Apologies, from the taciturn elf?  Bethany shook her head, bewildered.  “You have not.  I am just unsure why you have chosen to speak to me.  You said you do not trust me.”

Fenris chuckled suddenly, a surprising sound in the quiet of the hallway.  “I take my own advice, Bethany.  I do not trust anyone.  You are simply the only person I have been alone with for as long as I can remember, except for the Magister and his cronies.”

“Oh.”  Bethany was suddenly lost for words.  She realised with a jolt that he knew her name.

“I am sorry,” Fenris said, “I am taking up your time.  Let’s go.”

Bethany shrugged and turned, heading back to her tiny room where she spent the rest of the night struggling to sleep as she thought of the elf’s face, the curve of his lips, the pain and heat in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

The following day as she walked into her room, Fenris hesitated in the doorway.

“May I come in?”

She widened her eyes and felt her body tense, standing still and taut.

“No – it’s not that,”  Fenris said hastily.  “I just thought… you might like some company?”  He produced a pack of cards from a pocket in his tunic and waved them at her.

She relaxed slightly, although was still confused.  “I’ve never played.”

“I had to learn to entertain Danarius and his guests.  I could teach you?  If you would like?”

Bethany nodded cautiously.  This was an odd but not unwelcome development.  She had spent far too many evenings locked in her room, lonely and lost in unhealthy thoughts.  Perhaps she needed a friend, even if it was to be found in unexpected places.

Fenris spent nearly an hour sitting on the floor of her room, patiently teaching her the rules of Diamondback.  Bethany was a slow learner, and had she been gambling she would have been in trouble, but she found Fenris surprisingly easy company and after he had returned to Danarius’ side, she realised that she had smiled that night for the first time in what felt like months.

They fell into a routine over the next few weeks.  He watched silently as she busied herself in the kitchen, then fell into step beside her as she walked back to her room.  He would sit with her for around an hour, sometimes playing cards, sometimes just talking or sitting in companionable silence before leaving her with her thoughts.

She told him about her family; her quiet and noble mother, the father who she had idolised and from whom she had inherited her magic abilities.  Her brothers, who had teased her mercilessly as she grew up, but whom she missed more than life itself.  She wondered aloud where they were now, whether they still thought about her.

“I imagine you are hard to forget,” Fenris said softly, stroking back her hair.  She leaned into him instinctively, her head resting on his shoulder.  She rarely spoke of her family, and she felt vulnerable opening up to this man, who had quickly become her only confidante.

 “Your family sound wonderful,” he said after a short silence, a real longing in his voice.

“What about your family, Fenris?”

He sighed deeply and she felt him swallow hard.  “I don’t remember my family.  I remember nothing before I received these,” he said, one finger tracing the lyrium brands on the back of his other hand.

“Nothing at all?”  She was surprised.

“The pain was such… it took everything from me, all my memories.  I lost everything for these markings.  Sometimes I think that this is preferable.  If I remembered… then I think it might be harder for me to endure.  Knowing what I had lost.”

She sat up and looked him in the eye, looked at the pain in his face.  “Do you ever wonder…?”

He cut her off.  “All the time.  I look at every elvhen face, wondering if she’s my mother, if he is my brother.  But nobody ever recognises me.  I don’t know what I would do if someone did.”

She reached out, touched his cheek.  He turned away from her, rose to his feet.

“I have taken up enough time tonight.  I will see you tomorrow?”

“Of course, Fenris.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek before leaving and locking her door behind him, as he always did.  She stood for a long time afterwards, looking at the door, her fingers touching her cheek where his kiss had fallen.

 

* * *

 

 

"So how did you end up here?" Fenris was leaning against the wall of her bedroom, watching as she brushed out her hair, sweaty and knotted after a long day in the kitchen 

"Bandits," she said, frowning at the memory. "I had been out picking herbs for potions. I guess I strayed too far from the village. I was kidnapped by five men who had been hiding out in the caves outside Lothering. They sold me on to slavers, and the next thing I know I'm tied up on a ship."

"Did they hurt you?" Fenris' fists were clenching.

"No. They barely touched me. I guess I was worth more to them unspoiled," Bethany rolled her eyes. "I feel so stupid though, wandering off on my own."

Fenris made a noise of disgust.  "Do not blame yourself. The fault is with those who took you."

Bethany knew that was true, but it didn't make her feel any less angry at herself for her stupidity.  Those first days after her capture had been the worst of her life.  She had wet herself in fear and she remembered the men had gagged her with her own soiled smallclothes. She'd not slept a wink, convinced the minute she closed her eyes the men would be upon her.  She hadn't eaten, feeling sick constantly.  The bandits had forced her to walk until she had collapsed, weak and terrified. Then they'd tied her to a cart and wheeled her along until they'd reached Amaranthine and sold her to the Tevinter slavers who had shipped her to her new master.

Her first master had been a new magister, not the most important or powerful. He had not abused her; rather he had found out what she was good at, and put her to work in the kitchens.  She knew she had been lucky; many slaves had a far worse fate. But it was hard to feel fortunate when she ached for her family every day.

So ironic, she thought, to avoid the Circle for all those years and then to end up here.

"You would have been better off in the Circle, among your own kind," Fenris said, making her jump as she had not realised she had spoken aloud.

"My own kind?" She felt a flare of anger towards the elf. "I am human; my magic does not define who I am. I am nothing like the mages here!"

Fenris lowered his head. "No. It seems not. It was a poor choice of words, I'm sorry."

Bethany sighed. She walked over to Fenris and covered the elf's hand with hers. "All I wanted was a peaceful life with my family, to do what other village girls did, work on the land, meet a nice boy and have children of my own. I never had the chance, and I suppose now I never will."  She felt her eyes fill with tears. "I often used to fight with my mother for being over-protective. She never allowed me to date boys, never let me leave the village without my twin brother there to keep an eye on me. She was so afraid of Templars.  The day I was abducted was the first time I'd disobeyed her. I wish with all my heart I hadn't."

She felt Fenris' arm slide round her shoulders and he supported her as she sobbed, her face buried in his chest.

Eventually Bethany sniffed and pulled away, dashing the tears from her cheeks.  She paced the length of the little room before taking a deep breath and looking the elf in the eye.

"Fenris.  Would you... will you kiss me? It's just, I've never... and I want to know... what it is like. I don't want to die without ever being kissed."

Fenris' eyes widened before narrowing in a frown. "You're not going to die, Bethany."

"Nobody knows that," she said, sadly. "Slaves go missing all the time."

"I won't -" Fenris began, then stopped and shook his head at the futility of that statement. They both knew that he could not protect her from harm, if their master so desired it.

She tilted her chin as he moved towards her, strong fingers pushing through her tangled hair.  His lips were remarkably soft for a man who was all tight muscle and hard planes.  She felt his mouth against hers and sank into the kiss, taking her cue from his movements, her lips parting and her tongue touching his as he pulled her close.  It was a heady sensation; his scent surrounded her, armour oil, sweat and musk, and he tasted of cloves and the bitter juice they were often given to drink.  All her residual shyness melted away as their tongues twined hungrily and the kiss deepened, her arms around his waist, their bodies pressed together.  She never wanted to stop, never wanted this kiss to end.  It was everything she had ever dreamed it would be, and more.

It was Fenris who broke away, stepping back and panting as he wiped his hand over his lips.

"I'm sorry, Bethany, I shouldn't have..."

She reached out to touch his cheek, flinched when he turned his face away. "But Fenris, I asked you to... I wanted to."

"We are slaves, Bethany. We aren't allowed to want. I shouldn't even be here. I'm sorry. It can't happen again."  His eyes were unbearably sad, and she found she couldn't look at him any longer.  She turned away, jaw set and blinking hard, and stared silently at the wall until she heard him moving behind her, heard her door close and his footsteps retreating down the hall. Then she sank on to her small bed, and cried harder than she had since the days after she was taken.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first few days after the kiss, he walked her to her room in silence, leaving her there with only a brief goodbye.  Bethany was bereft, feeling lonely in a way she had never experienced before. She missed the companionship they had begun to share, the hour or so they had managed to snatch at the end of each day, before anyone had noticed Fenris was not where he should have been.

Then one evening he stood in her doorway almost shyly, producing the pack of cards and raising an eyebrow in a silent question. She laughed, relief and joy spreading over her features as she beckoned him into her room.

"Forgive me," he murmured, squeezing her hand. "I shouldn't have hurt you."

"I understand, Fenris," she said, her heart swelling painfully in her chest. "Can we at least be friends? As much as that is possible here."

He smiled sadly through the fringe of white hair that fell across his face. "Friends."

He had never had a friend before.  And this was an odd sort of friendship, forged in stolen moments and hidden glances, but it sustained them both over the long days of that summer.  Until the day Fenris was summoned to his master's side.

"Fenris, my little wolf," Danarius' voice was as smooth and slippery as ever. It always set Fenris' teeth on edge.

"Master."  Fenris bowed his head obediently.

"I notice you have become rather attached to the young girl we have working in our kitchens. Perhaps you have been spending too much time there?"

Fenris felt fingers of ice slide down his spine. He kept his face and tone carefully neutral.

"I'm not sure I understand, Master."

"Oh, come now, Fenris. Little birds will sing.  I suspect you know exactly what I am talking about."  Danarius grinned wickedly.

Fenris looked at the floor by his master's feet, said nothing.

"We cannot have some young minx distracting my most prized possession, now, can we? Something will need to be done."

Danarius snapped his fingers and a maid appeared by his side.

"Gardia. Arrange a party. Tomorrow night.  I have a new slave to show off. I think this one could be rather _special._ Do you not agree, little wolf? I feel the pair of you could be _quite_ the draw."

Fenris was silent, eyes wide in horror. The maid curtseyed, disappeared to make the necessary arrangements.

Danarius turned to him. "You will not defy me, sneaking around in secret. We will all see just what you have been hiding. Just what tender fruits are so juicy that you will risk my wrath to taste them.  And _you will put on a show."_

Fenris bowed his head.  "Yes, Master."

 

* * *

 

Fenris watched the preparation of dinner that evening with a cool and detached air. He never once caught her eye, gave her none of the usual secret smiles that they would share.  Bethany was distracted by his mood, nervous and worried.  By the time he followed her to her room, she was as jumpy as a grasshopper.

"Fenris," she turned to him the moment the door closed behind them. "Something is wrong.  What's the matter?"

"Oh, Bethany," he said, voice cracking, unable to look her in the face. "I've been such a fool. I thought... I was lonely. I thought we could be friends."

"But Fenris, we _are_ friends.  Aren't we?"  Lines of worry creased Bethany's pale forehead as she reached for the elf's hand.  He pulled away from her sharply.

"We were.  You will hate me, soon enough."  Fenris' voice was muffled, his throat thick with looming tears.

"I couldn't hate you, Fenris. You're all I have to look forward to, in this place. Our friendship is far too precious to throw away.  Why... why would you think I'd hate you?"

Fenris sank down on to her bed, head in his hands and shoulders shaking as he wept. He'd never cried before, not for the pain of his markings, for the loss of his memories or for his family.  But this - this was of his own making.  His fault. He should have known better.

"I should never have come here," he said bitterly, wincing at the hurt look on Bethany's face.  "I was selfish, and now I've... I've ruined everything.  Danarius knows, Bethany. He _knows,_ and he's going to punish us both."

Bethany's chin rose defiantly.  "It's my fault as much as yours, Fenris.  Whatever he does, I can't regret anything.  I care about you too much."

Her words pierced deeper than any dagger.  Fenris let out an audible sob.

"Oh, but Bethany, he's going to make us... make us _perform_ at his party tomorrow night," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"Perform? What do you - oh," she broke off, her hand rising to her face and eyes widening. "No, no... he can't... I can't..."

"I'm sorry, Bethany."  Fenris sounded completely broken.

"But Fenris, I've never... I wanted it to be special..."  Bethany was panicking, pale and shaky as she thought about what the magister expected her to do.

Fenris closed his eyes, struggling to rein in his emotions.  He knew nothing could stop Danarius from holding the party tomorrow, nothing short of a miracle would allow them to escape the spectacle he was planning.  But the thought of Bethany - sweet, pure Bethany - being stripped bare and touched for the first time in front of half of Tevinter's ruling classes was enough to make him feel violently sick. Maker knew how she must feel.

"Bethany," he said, softly. "Will you let me try to make it special for you now?  Here, just the two of us."

She pressed her fist into her mouth, wanting to scream.  She had dreamed of this moment, but not like this.  In her fantasies they were free, Fenris telling her how he'd always loved her, had waited for her.  Not in a cramped cell, with the elf speaking as if he was doing her a favour.

Yet the thought of being taken for the titillation of the party guests... They could have her dignity, but they would not have _this_.  She sat down beside Fenris on the bed, lay a hand on his arm.

" _Fenris,_ " she said, her voice strong and unwavering, and kissed him.

His arms went around her as he returned the kiss, pushing against her until she fell backwards on to the bed with a giggle.  Fenris loomed over her, his eyes burning into hers as their kisses became suddenly serious, exploring each other’s mouths with an intensity which made her feel weak. 

Fenris pulled back to look at her, leaving her lying on her back with her dark hair spread across the pillow, her mouth puffy and pink with kisses, lips moist and tingling.  She was breathless, wanting more, tugging him back towards her with a desperation she did not recognise.

“You are beautiful, Bethany,” he whispered in her ear as he pressed his lips against the curve of her jaw, his breath hot on her skin.  She felt the trace of his tongue as he dragged it along the delicate line of her neck, nibbling softly as he moved his head slowly down her body, down to the starched fabric of her collar.

“Is this OK?” he asked as he began to fumble with the ties of her tunic, hands shaking.

“Yes,” she almost sighed as she raised herself up from the bed just enough that he could slip the clothing from her body, her skin pebbling in the chill of the room.  She lay back on the bed, tearing off her breastband as she watched him hurriedly strip out of his own armour.  His body was firm and lithe, skin smooth and tanned under the pale lines of lyrium which curved and ran over his muscles.  She caught her breath as he stripped off his smallclothes, standing naked in front of her, his cock hard and erect and already shining with his need.

He stood at the foot of the bed, pulling down her breeches and underclothes in one swift movement, pausing to run his eyes the length of her body, a shy smile on his lips.  He looked as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening, and his surprising bashfulness made her want him all the more.  She stretched out a hand and pulled him down to cover her body, his skin warm against hers.

As she felt his mouth on her breast, she closed her eyes and could almost imagine that they were somewhere else, in their own cottage perhaps, warm in front of a roaring fire, loving each other without shame or restriction.

She ran her fingers through the silvery sheet of his silken hair; breathed his name amid stuttering gasps as his lips closed over a nipple and tugged it gently between his teeth.  Her back arched and heat pooled between her legs as she felt his delicate yet strong fingers caressing her, trailing patterns across the softness of her belly and thighs.

Then he was touching her centre, one finger dipping into her core.  She gasped at the contact, her body writhing beneath him as he brushed against her clitoris.  Magic sparked and fizzed in her veins as his lyrium-striped hands danced over her, pulling sensations from her body that she had never believed possible.

She watched, breath hitching, as he settled between her thighs and leaned into her, and she cried out wordlessly as she felt the warmth of his mouth against her.  He was slow, sensuous; alternating between soft stroking licks and firm yet gentle flicks of his tongue, delving into her folds and circling her nub until she was coming apart beneath him, fingers digging into the bedspread and head thrown back, panting and whimpering.

Just as she felt she couldn't possibly take any more, he raised himself up on whipcord-strong arms and moved over her, a question in his deep green eyes as she felt his arousal brushing against her.

" _Oh yes,_ Fenris."

It was all he needed.  She gasped as he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock slipping past her folds and sliding into her.  He groaned as he sank slowly into her tight, wet heat, the feeling of being inside a woman as new to him as the experience was for her.

"Oh, _Bethany._  You feel..."  He couldn't complete the sentence, left speechless by the soft velvet grip of her body around him.  She was whining softly, each gentle thrust filling her a little more until he was buried deep within her, his eyes tightly shut as he fought for control.

She heard herself saying his name over and over, her world condensed to this room, this bed, this man who was making her feel the most incredible sensations.  The friction of his cock as he moved inside her was like nothing she could ever have imagined, and her heart swelled as she watched the passion on his face as he lost himself within her, thrusting harder and faster as he found his confidence, their bodies in perfect rhythm.

The room began to crackle with electricity as she felt herself begin to spasm, clenching tightly around him as pulses of energy rippled over her skin.  She heard him inhale sharply, his eyes flying wide as he experienced the feeling of her magic blending with her impending orgasm, his shaft coated in her juices and tingling with the potency of her involuntary spells.

One last sharp thrust from Fenris and she was pushed over the edge, wailing as she came, blue light surrounding their bodies from her magic and his lyrium.  The strength of her climax brought him to his own shuddering peak, cock throbbing almost painfully as he released inside her with a yell and collapsed against her chest, trembling.

"Oh, Maker, Fenris," Bethany said almost in wonder, her skin thrumming with energy as her abilities reacted to the lyrium within Fenris and the sensations of her own body.  Her hair was wild around her face, sparks of icy radiance flickering about her fingertips.  She had never felt so powerful.

Fenris slid out of her body with a gasp, sitting back on his haunches and gazing at her with a mixture of fear and adoration.

"What... What was that?" he said, dazedly.

“Ah… I’m sorry.  I couldn’t seem to help it,” she said, her eyes still stormy and dark.  “I’ve never felt my magic like that before.  It felt like… well, it felt like I could do anything.”  It still did, but she didn’t want to admit it to him.

Fenris was silent, biting his lip thoughtfully.  Bethany began to worry that she had gone too far, that the magic he hated had damaged him in some way.

“I’ve lived among the magisters all my life, as far as I can remember.  I have never seen any look as you did then,” he said. 

“Did I hurt you?” she blurted out, desperately.

“No!  No,” he shook his head.  “It was the most wonderful thing I have felt in my life, hard though it is for me to admit it.  It’s just frightening, the amount of strength you seemed to have, there at the end.”

“I’m not going to use magic, Fenris.  I can see the harm it does,” she said earnestly, willing him to believe her.  “It’s calming now, slowly.  I am sure I will be back to normal soon.”

“Perhaps.”  Fenris looked thoughtful.  “Just what do you think you could do, with your magic like that?”

Bethany shuddered.  She had felt as if she could have brought the entire estate crashing down around their ears, that she could have cast spells more dangerous than any she had ever imagined.  She looked mutely at the elf, not wanting to explain just what she had experienced.

“Bethany, look, this is important.  Whatever happened then, could you… do you think you could match a Magister, if you tried?”

She frowned.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.”  _Yes._   “But for it to happen again, I’d need to…”

Her voice trailed off as she remembered the party, the plans Danarius had for them.  She turned her eyes to Fenris, hope beginning to sparkle there.

“Tomorrow, at the party… just look at me.  Pretend we are here, in private.  And then… we fight back.”  Fenris’ eyes were afire with a strange and deadly light.  Bethany thought she had never seen him look more beautiful.

She nodded, a smile stretching across her face.


	3. Chapter 3

The main hall was buzzing as the guests took their seats at the banquet tables, slaves already on hand to fill their goblets and ensure their plates were never empty.  Danarius himself sat upon a raised dais at the head of the hall, clad in his finest robes.  He was looking forward to the night's entertainments very much, licking his lips at the thought of the main attraction, his beautiful elf - his life's work - being paraded in front of the noble families of Tevinter.  He was quite sure they would all be eaten up with envy.  Watching Fenris defile the pretty kitchen maid would just be an added bonus.  He hummed softly to himself, smiling at the images being conjured in his mind.

The performers during the meal were all rather tame, he thought; acrobats, tumblers, dancers.  His guests politely applauded, but he was bored, wanting only to see his slaves rutting like animals.  He beckoned his handmaiden.

"Gardia, please fetch Fenris and the dark-haired young girl from the kitchens, there's a good girl."  The maid nodded and departed to carry out the order.

Fenris appeared in the hall first, instantly dropping to one knee at the foot of the dais, his head bowed in supplication.

"Good, good. Stand, now," Danarius said smugly, looking around the hall to check he had everyone's attention.  He rose from his seat and made his way over to Fenris, moving behind him and weaving his arms around the elf's waist.

"This, people, is what I've been keeping to myself these last months. I promise you have never seen his like before, and may never do so again.  He is a true warrior, yet subservient and compliant. He is the perfect slave."

As Danarius spoke, his fingers unbuckled armour, dropping pieces to the floor.

"See how strong are his arms, how muscled his chest! The lines you see are pure lyrium, giving him the ability to physically phase into the Fade at will. He could rip your heart out, Madam," he pointed at a plump older mage who shrieked and fanned her face, "without even breaking a sweat. An exquisite specimen, do you agree?"

Many of the guests were nodding, clearly impressed.  Danarius grinned as Fenris' breeches and smallclothes slid down his legs, pooling on the floor.  The elf stood unclothed but unbowed, only a slight flush to his ears betraying his discomfort.

"Oui, il est magnifique," a woman called out, lustfully.  Several other people chuckled.

"Ah, Mme. Lemoire. Perhaps you will get a chance to try him out later? First, though, we have a little display of his muscle for you all to enjoy."  Danarius clapped his hands. "The girl!"

Gardia moved forward, dragging Bethany behind her in a tight grip.  Danarius smirked at the terror on the girl's face, the deathly pallor of her skin, the tremors in her legs.

"Lovely, no? I cannot believe I allowed one so ripe as this to languish in my kitchens. Still, we will soon put this right." Danarius pulled out a tiny dagger from his wrist and used it to slit the ties holding Bethany's tunic together. The rough garment was all that had covered her, and she shivered as the fabric fell away and she stood naked before many pairs of hungry eyes.

"You will start with the elf as promised, but I believe I would like some personal service later," the magister leered, squeezing her bared breast.  Bethany felt acid burn in her throat and swallowed hard to keep from being sick. She knew now there was no going back. She would rather die than suffer the monstrosity of Danarius invading her body.

"What a beauty. A fine pair, and all for your pleasure. Now, Fenris, my little wolf. Make it good.  Make her scream." Danarius indicated the tall pallet laid out on the floor, slightly elevated and placed so that everyone would be able to see them.

Fenris took Bethany by the hand, squeezing lightly to reassure her.  He led her over to the pallet and lifted her gently up on to the raised surface.  She lay back, blushing with the shame of so many people seeing her completely exposed.  Her legs were spread as Fenris lowered his head between her thighs, and she felt the cold air of the hall against the glistening heat of her sex.  She tensed and bucked her hips as she felt his tongue slide along the length of her slit.

 _Remember last night, this is just like that, just the two of us..._ she repeated her thoughts like a mantra as she tried to lose herself in the feel of Fenris' mouth.  She was vaguely aware of Danarius' voice providing a commentary on their actions, but couldn't make out the words.  _Tune him out... concentrate on your lover... Just you and him._

And Maker, she had to admit it felt good, what Fenris was doing to her. Her body was responding despite the horror of being watched.  His fingers had joined his mouth, and he was touching what felt like every part of her simultaneously.  She wriggled her hips and allowed a small moan to leave her throat as she felt his thumb press against her clitoris and his forefinger slipping inside her, exploring her wetness.  She was becoming aroused, his touch beginning to set her nerve endings afire.

“Enough!” she heard the voice, was brought back into the moment as she realised Danarius was pulling Fenris away from her.  “Girl, your turn.  Pleasure him.”

She looked up into Fenris’ green eyes and took a deep breath as she slid down from the pallet and fell to her knees in front of him.  Fenris shivered, his body ramrod-straight and his cock limp in front of her.  She could see from his eyes that this was perhaps even more difficult and shameful for him than it was for her.

Bethany bit her lip and gulped back another breath of air as she moved her mouth towards him.  This was new, and her mind was flailing in panic, wondering what she ought to do.  Relying on instinct, she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the length of his soft cock, warm to the touch.  She felt him tense and sigh.

Steeling herself, Bethany took him in her mouth, feeling the first stirrings of arousal in him.  His cock began to swell, hardening as she ran her tongue along his length and pulled him between her lips.  She closed her eyes, imagining they were alone, tasting the salty warmth of his skin and listening to the faint breathy sounds he was making.  She felt his fingers in her hair, shaky yet strong.  The lyrium lines carved into his shaft - how that must have hurt, she thought - were fizzing in her mouth and making her teeth ache with the power she was drawing from him.  She dug her fingernails into her palms, tamping down her magic.  _Not yet.  He must not suspect._

Fenris gazed down at the woman on her knees before him. He felt a sudden rush of emotion, something strange and unknown.  His legs felt as wobbly as a newborn warhorse and his cock twitched madly as Bethany suckled him with her soft lips, her moist tongue.  He let out an involuntary groan, his head tipped back... and then she was gone, his cock left cold and aching for release.

Snapping open his eyes, he saw Bethany struggling in the arms of the magister, who was pawing her gleefully as he lifted her back on to the pallet.  Anger surged through him and he had to bow his head and take several deep breaths. Now was not the time for subordination.  Bethany needed her full power.

"Look at what she does to him!" Danarius crowed, pulling Bethany's hand towards his own groin.  Bethany attempted to suppress a shudder as the palm of her hand grazed over an unmistakeable bulge underneath the magister's robes. "Who can blame him? I bet we're all thinking the same thing, am I right?"

Danarius pushed Bethany roughly back on to the pallet, standing between her thighs and bending over her to whisper in her ear.

"Make this good, my pet, and we will have the whole room lining up just for you before the day is done."

The magister stepped back, his hands on Bethany's shaking thighs.  He forced her legs apart and grinned as he slipped one finger within her folds, his eyes sweeping the room to make sure everyone was watching him.  Bethany tensed and gasped.

"Come, my little wolf. This flower is ripe for the plucking," Danarius said, moving away from the pallet.  Bethany let out a heavy breath, tendrils of relief pushing through the horror and fear.  She saw Fenris' face loom over her, his expression carefully impassive although his eyes were burning into hers.

She willed her body to relax, her knees loosening and her leg muscles softening as she parted her thighs to allow Fenris to touch her.  His clever fingers danced over her core, sliding along the length of her slit, dipping into her and circling her clitoris.  She felt the lyrium in his hands against her skin, began to feel the prickle of energy building within her.

 _"Fenris,"_ she whispered, almost involuntarily.  Her back bowed as he pushed two fingers into her, curling them against her walls as he moved over her, bearing his weight on his other arm.

Her thighs gripped the elf's hips and she felt his cock brush against her skin.  She remembered the way it had felt inside her the night before, the way he had felt as he'd moved within her. Oh, but how she wanted that feeling again, even here, even with so many eyes upon her.  She knew she cared for nothing in the world so much as this man, wanted nothing but him, would risk everything for him.

Bethany raised her hips to meet his body, her arms pulling him close.  She felt him tense as the tip of his shaft slid into her.  He was gazing down at her with a pained expression, his mouth moving soundlessly.  She knitted her brows, confused.

Shuddering, he plunged hard and deep into her with one sudden thrust, drawing a loud gasp from her lips as he collapsed across her chest. His mouth was hot against her ear as he hissed the words he was so desperate to say.

"I love you."

Bethany thought everything made sense at that moment, lying naked and filled by her lover on a hard wooden platform under the gaze of what felt like a thousand people.  _Love._ Yes, that's what it was, and it was love that would give her the strength to be free from this nightmare, one way or the other.  Now that she had it, she would not lose it without a fight.

"Love you," she mouthed to him as he raised himself up on his strong arms and began to move inside her.  His olive eyes had a sheen of moisture which caught the light and shone, and she knew she had tears in her own eyes.  They both knew this would either be a beginning or the end, and that nothing would ever be the same.

She could hear the buzz of voices, the dying of the applause which had spontaneously broken out as Fenris had sunk into her, and she tuned them out, focusing only on the man between her legs.  She knew Danarius was standing near her feet, had seen him craning his scrawny neck to get the best view of their bodies joining, but blanked him from her mind.  Nothing mattered but Fenris.  Nothing existed for her except Fenris, his warm body against her skin, and the sensation of his cock sliding slowly in and out of her.

With a gasp she clenched her muscles and watched his reaction to the feeling.  She was soft and tight and hot and wet, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure as her walls rippled around him.  She felt the air around them begin to hum with energy.

He clearly felt it too and began to snap his hips into hers with a desperate urgency, her body rising to meet him, the rhythm hard and fast and unrestrained.  Her hair sparkled with static as she lost herself within him, surges of electricity fizzing across her skin and her eyes gleaming with passion and ferocity.

Fenris knew he was nearing his peak and so was she; the moment was upon them.  He moved his arm between their frantic bodies, pressing lightly against her nub as he angled his thrusts to push as deep as he could.  He felt her tense, felt the power of her orgasm tear through her as she pulsed and shuddered around him, drawing him over the edge into his own roaring climax.

 

Everything went white.  His release had been so forceful that for a moment he thought he had lost his senses, but the whiteness continued.  He realised suddenly that he was on the floor, cold and naked and surrounded with a strange silver aura which made his skin itch and throb.  He blinked slowly and raised his head.

The brightness of the room, he realised with a jolt, was because all the lamps in the room were burning with a supernatural intensity, blinding and confusing those guests who had not been near enough to the door for immediate escape.

And there she stood before them, proud and straight, her naked body glowing an icy blue with the energy which was pulsing in waves over her skin. She was surrounded by a bubble of magic, oily rainbows sliding in circular motions around the protective sphere.  Her long black hair was streaming around her head, crackling and sparking.  She was bathed in the radiance of extraordinary power, and she was utterly, terrifyingly beautiful.

As he watched her, a cloud of grey began to appear around her, weaving over her curves and forming into a whirling tornado.  The phenomenon grew and darkened until she was completely submerged within it, a perfect storm within the bubble that encased her.  She was singing a tune he had never heard before, in a language he did not know, and then she threw her arms into the air violently.

The tornado broke free of the bubble and began to spin wildly around the room, moving from one person to the next, enveloping them one by one despite frantic and panicked attempts to escape.  Each time the whirlwind passed over someone it would become less grey and more blue, until it glowed with an unearthly azure light.

Some of the mages and magisters present had thrown spells at Bethany while this was happening – each one had bounced harmlessly from the bubble shield that she had conjured.  Nothing they tried could even interrupt her spellcasting, let alone hurt her.  Even Danarius was cursing as his famed fire magic extinguished on contact with the bubble.  Fenris was open-mouthed in awe, never having thought Bethany could possess so much strength.

As the spells began to die away, Fenris realised that the tornado was sucking the mana from the people it touched, drawing all their magical ability away from them and leaving them helpless.  And, he realised, he could hear Danarius screaming now as the cyclone spiralled around him, draining him dry.  Fenris grinned.

The tornado eventually returned to Bethany, snaking around her body and sinking slowly into her skin.  The vitality contained in the mana of every mage in the room now flooded through Bethany, increasing the intensity of her magic.  The air was sizzling and cracking, and everything about her was bathed in a cold fire, her eyes as fluid as mercury.

Fenris shielded his eyes and ducked underneath the pallet as the light grew even brighter and the room grew hot with the surge of electricity. He felt sweat breaking out across his skin, and heard the popping of the lamps as they began to overheat and explode.  People were screaming as molten glass showered the room, searing through clothes and skin alike.

He peered out, overwhelmed and afraid, and watched breathlessly as Bethany raised her arms and created a bright bolt of lightning which shot around the room, drawing more screams and a terrible smell of burning hair and flesh. 

The only thing lighting the room now was Bethany, the only sound the hum of her magic and the occasional broken and agonised sob.  Her hands were by her sides, and her eyes clearer as she turned to look at him.

“I saved him for you, Fenris,” she said, smiling shyly and holding out a hand.

He scrambled to his feet, still speechless at the display of dominance that Bethany had asserted, the incredible power that she had exhibited.  He wondered if he could ever truly feel the same about her after this, his shy, naïve young lover suddenly taking the form of the strongest magister he had ever seen.  But it was still her, still his Bethany, in the way she bit her lip as she watched him walk over to her and the way her hand shook as he took it.

“You’ll need to be quick,” she said, “it’s waning fast now, and I can’t hold him for long.”

Fenris turned to look at his master, captured in a crushing prison spell and writhing in pain before him.  He had dreamed of this moment for so long.

“You will never hurt me again,” he said, firing the words like spears of ice as he looked Danarius in the eye.  He felt the lyrium in his skin spark and gleam, and the anger and hurt of the years spent in slavery swell and catch in his throat.

He nodded at Bethany.  “ _Now_.”  The magic dispersed and the magister fell to the floor, gasping and coughing.

He did not have time to catch his breath before Fenris seized him by the throat and lifted him into the air, legs kicking helplessly beneath his robes.

“You are no longer my master,” Fenris spat, the blue of his lyrium bathing them both in an eerie glow in the darkness of the ruined banquet room.  There was an audible crack as Fenris’ hand passed through the magister’s neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly, the man’s body dropping to the floor like a rag doll.

Fenris stood silent for long moments, staring down at the remains of the one he hated above all else, now just a pile of cloth and flesh.  He was startled out of his reverie by a hand laid light on his arm and a soft voice in his ear.

“We need to get out of here, Fenris.”

Fenris spun to face her, the mage who had freed them both, the woman he loved.  He pressed a swift fierce kiss to her lips before hurrying over to the centre of the hall where his clothes had lain discarded.  Bethany would have to find a dress from… he shuddered, knowing that they would have to find a corpse wearing clothes that would fit her.

Dressing quickly – he in his armour, she in a shimmering russet dress that was all she could find undamaged and roughly the right size – they left the hall through the nearest double doors, running for the gardens before any alarm could be raised.

“Where shall we go?”  Fenris said, out of breath from running and from the exhilaration and terror of the evening’s events.

“My family are from Ferelden.  It’s not a great suggestion, but it’s all I can think of.  We head south – if we can find them, my brothers will keep us safe.”  Bethany allowed herself to think of her family for the first time in months, allowed herself to hope that maybe – just maybe – she might see them again.

“I just hope they aren’t the protective type who will make me sleep in the barn,” Fenris said, smiling.  “Come on – south it is.”

Clasping hands, they kept running.


End file.
